


Love in Bloom

by meet_the_girl_who_can



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack Treated Seriously, First Kiss, Flower Language, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Mentioned Andy | Andromache of Scythia, No Immortality, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Secret Admirer, Writer! Joe, who keeps herself sensibly away from the pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:16:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29542233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meet_the_girl_who_can/pseuds/meet_the_girl_who_can
Summary: “No,” Nile shakes her head, eyeing the vase her expression matching Nicky’s vague horror. “No way, it must have another meaning. Something obscure, since they obviously go in for symbolism. We’ll keep looking”In which Nicky has a secret admirer, Joe is an incurable romantic and Booker tries to help but is left unsupervised
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 38
Kudos: 233





	Love in Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> Brought to you by me skim reading a list of flower meanings, misreading it and imagining this. This is so cracky, oh my god.

“Nicky?” Nile’s greeting rang through from the front of the shop along with the last jingle of the bell over the door, the question obvious in her voice.

“Just a minute, Nile!” Nicky called back, shifting the heavy bundle of leather-bound encyclopedias cradled against his chest – he’s got to stop stocking them, they’re not pretty enough to be worth it –trying to keep his balance on the ladder. Nicky loves his bookshop tucked into the cobbled streets behind the cathedral, the way the light spills rosy through the old stained glass window panels wooden panelling, and squashy worn leather armchairs around the crackling fire they have as rain barrels down over the ground outside. Nicky loves the – well, the rich character of books themselves from the lusciously bound leather classics to the paperbacks dog ears, that whatever experience you need you can find it in literature, whether it’s having the reassurance that you’re not alone in your experiences or to have the unknown conjured in your mind’s eye. He likes catering to all comers, new readers or old, students, children, the professionals or the curious.

But the fact remains.

“Never again,  _ never again” _ he mutters irritably, “Ah  _ fuck it _ ” He hisses, giving up and sliding down the polished wooden rungs back to the floor, dropping the pile onto the corner of his desk as he goes. He’s too distracted to do inventory now anyway. Ducking through the entryway to the front of the shop, he smiles at Nile, who is braced on her arms, palms flat on the countertop, staring down at the latest offering.

“Good morning Nile” he smiles and is rewarded with a sweet smile in return.

“Hi, Nicky. So, this is…different?” she bites her lip, tamping down a laugh, nodding down at the latest delivery. They had started about two months ago and gone on every Monday since then, delivered anonymously by courier. The most beautiful floral arrangements and plants. Nicky’s kitchen windowsill’s getting quite crowded, but it always brightens his week, something to look forward to. And whenever he glances towards the bright petals, sitting on the corner of the counter next to the bookmarks display, it always makes him smile.

It is also driving Nicky slowly insane. 

And the latest gift is only adding to the sensation. Because it’s certainly uh...unique. Even compared to everything else he’s received; the herbs and so on.

“It’s asparagus”

Nicky scrubs a hand over the back of his neck and waves a hand at it, at a loss “It is”

There had been no card or note to explain this particular delivery. Even Marcus the delivery driver, who’s also getting rather invested in the whole saga had just laughed when he’d plonked it down on the counter and held out his reader for Nicky’s signature.

There’s asparagus on Nicky’s shop counter.

Why is there asparagus on his shop counter?

It’s raw too, a clump you could buy at the supermarket. Not like whoever his admirer – which is a novelty in itself given how bookish and blunt Nicky is - anyway, it’s not cooked or on a plate, like whoever it is just thought he’d like some asparagus for lunch; grilled in butter with salt and pepper, all ready and prepared from Deliveroo or something.

“What I want to know is, why’s it in a vase?” Nile waves a finger at the shock of green as she sidles around the counter and starts booting up the computer. Nicky glares at the asparagus anew, as if the mere intensity of his focus will unlock its secrets. It’s true, the vegetables' bright stems are all tied up neatly with a silky purple ribbon, protruding from a small cream vase.

Again, what the actual fuck?

In all honesty, he hasn’t really thought about it, beyond briefly wondering if it was some gourmet restaurant’s idea of presentation. Then again, he only had four hours of sleep, bed too wide and thoughts too loud, so it’s a wonder he’s even clothed and upright today.

Nile taps her jaw with a bright orange fingernail. Then she turns gleaming eyes on him, “Maybe they mean more than that this person likes you. Like that language of flowers thing?”

Nicky blinks at her “People still do that?”

Nile only shrugged, a braid slipping over her shoulder. “Maybe this person does. They’ve sent repeat bouquets and stuff before.” She reminds him, “Could be”

Nicky latches onto the theory, as the most plausible thing out of the series of blooms and bouquets he’s received thus far. Wonderful, clever Nile with her artistic sensitivity.

“So, if we can find out what the flowers mean then we can work out who's sending them?”

“Sound hypothesis, no?”

“Okay,” he nods, seeing the sense of the suggestion. “Yes, we’ll try and remember what was sent and we can google it”

The first flowers, Nicky can remember with ease.

A delivery of bluebells. He’d had a particularly awful day when the lovely old stained glass in the top pane of Nicky’s front windows had been smashed by a street performance gone awry. It would take ages to fix and he’d gotten grief from the council because it was such an old building, even though  _ he _ hadn’t been the one to break the window. That delivery was most intriguing because the first bunch had come tied with a sky blue ribbon, along with a note in scratchy ink on a rough scrap of paper that had seemed – deliberate. Thick, coarse, and catches at the fingertips just a little, like the pages of a sketchbook.

**_ Keep shining in the darkness. You bring light to those who need it most. _ **

There weren’t always flowers. When it was it was either bluebells or sunflowers or a white flower that’s shaped like a star which they eventually work out is commonly called a moonflower. But there had been other things too; a book of poetry, an elegant bookmark shaped like a sword, a basil plant, and even a travel-size chess set.

He hadn’t thought the flowers themselves had meant anything beyond a general expression of admiration because most people didn’t go in for that level of communication anymore. Apparently, his secret admirer isn’t just anyone.

He knows who he’d like it to be. But Joe could have anyone he wanted, he’s so – beautiful, and clever and endearing. He knows the most wonderful obscure things as if it's commonplace knowledge. Charisma and brightness of spirit in spades. He is fuelled by a level of kindness and empathy that Nicky is in awe of. Plus, he’s not even here, right now. He’s in Cheltenham at a literary festival, doing guest appearances, book signings and readings, and everything.

Nile’s propped up on her elbows, fingers flying across her phone, “Look, here. According to Wikipedia, asparagus  _ does  _ have romantic implications and - oh, shit, I forgot about that.”

“What?” Nicky asked, frowning at the sudden drop in Nile’s voice. “It can’t be that bad, surely?”

Nile’s gaze rises to meet his over the counter, and she worries her lower lip between her teeth, “Well - only, it’s an aphrodisiac as well, isn’t it? Asparagus”

Nicky glances back to the vegetables in their vase, sitting innocently by Nile’s elbow, the meaning of  _ that  _ symbolism sinking in, and wrinkles his nose.

“They’re propositioning me – with a vegetable?” Nicky shudders, wrinkling his nose. At least it wasn’t an eggplant…no, definitely not going there.

“No,” Nile shakes her head, expression matching Nicky’s vague horror. “No way, it must be something else. Something obscure, since they obviously go in for symbolism. We’ll keep looking”

Nicky puts down Nile’s cup of coffee and sets about opening up. He picks up the vase, unsure what to do with this particular offering. He normally sticks them by the till or the rack of colourful bookmarks on the counter. But this time, despite Nile’s optimism, there’s always the chance that this  _ is _ a joke, that it’s taken Nicky too long to get. Or that his ‘admirer’ has grown bored of him at last.

He’s spending too long deliberating over this.

Nicky pulls the bundle free and not knowing what else to do with it, he bins it. He leaves the empty vase beside the bookmarks. Maybe he’ll stick some pencils or those brightly coloured novelty quills in it.

Quynh jogs in at her usual time. She comes to Nicky’s bookshop for the three C’s: coffee, conversation, and comfort. And art books. At this time of day, it’s definitely the coffee. She swears his coffee maker is the best in the city, but she’s been saying that for as long as she’s known him. Nicky’s just returned Quynh’s newly filled thermos to her waiting hands when she gasps in delight and points at the empty vase in sudden glee.

“Ohh, I’m early!” she checks her watch, grinning at them, “I wonder what our botanical Romeo will send you today”

Nile and Nicky wince so fast, it’s almost comical.

“You didn’t miss it” Nicky explains the offering as quickly and clinically as he can. It’s not that he thinks Quynh would laugh, nor does she. What he does not expect is the icy expression that settles over her face when the shock fades.

“Unbelievable” she scowls, glaring down at her coffee cup and mutters something else that Nicky doesn’t catch but it sounds an awful lot like, “I’m going to  _ kill him” _

“What was that?”

“Never mind. Look, Nicky, it’s a mistake. I mean - it must be a mistake. They probably just – misheard your admirer and sent the wrong thing.  _ Don’t  _ go reading too much into this one. Now, I’ve gotta dash” She kisses her fingers and waves at them both, digging her mobile out of her pocket and disappearing out the door.

Nicky turns to Nile, eyebrow raised as he huffs a quiet laugh at the strange pace their day is taking but she’s staring after Quynh.

“I’ll be right back” she mutters before she’s scurrying after Quynh.

*

“Quynh! Quynh, hang on a sec!” Quynh draws the phone away from her ear, turning to see Nile, slipping out of the bookshop door and jogging after her up the street.

“Nile? What’s up, sweetheart?”

Nile smiles that confident smile that always reminds Quynh of Andy, “Nothing just – back there. About Nicky’s admirer – you know who it is, don’t you?”

Quynh’s smile; sharp, slim, and pleased is answer enough before she says cryptically, “As do you, I think. In fact, I think the only person who  _ doesn’t _ know at this point is Nicky. Now, darling, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go kill Booker”

“Oh God, remind me to send my condolences” Nile murmurs sympathetically. As much as he might deserve whatever Quynh’s about to do to him, Nile can’t help but sympathise. Quynh’s laughter follows her back inside the shop.

Quynh returns the phone to her ear, voice cooling as she hisses, “ _ What is wrong with you?!” _

“How long have you got?” Booker asks rhetorically over the line, “Was he horrified? Is he allergic? Can you be allergic to asparagus? I feel like Joe would know that, what with Nicky being ‘the love of his life’ and all that”

“Well given asparagus is meant to be an aphrodisiac and Yusuf with his poetic soul would never be so  _ crass,  _ I ask again, what in God’s name possessed you?” Quynh asked, caught between irritation and hilarity at the sheer clusterfuck that this had turned into, “You had one job, Sebastien. One!”

“And I did it! Joe said he wanted to send Nicky asparagus! I sent asparagus. As instructed!”

Quynh took a deep breath. She knew Andy had scheduled that early morning meeting to keep herself firmly out of the whole debacle. She’d told Quynh the boys would just have to sort themselves out. But Quynh had been convinced things would have been smoother than whatever this was.

“What  _ precisely _ did Joe ask you to send Nicky? Word for word. Read the message aloud, please, Booker”

“Asparagus- “Booker’s triumphant tone broke off sharply into swearing, low but heavy, “ _ fern. _ An ‘asparagus  _ fern _ . Fucking – what the hell is – right, yes. I misread it.  _ Damn” _

“Told you” Quynh retorted, eyes sliding shut, but there was no heat in her rebuke, just disappointment that as slow as Joe and Nicky had been pining for each other, long stares when the other wasn’t looking and gentle smiles, lingering touches when they hugged one another. And now, things had the horrible potential to jump them back several steps. Do not pass ‘Go’, do not confess your feelings to the man you love.

“You’re going to have to tell Joe, you know.” She tells him, firmly, speaking over Booker’s groan “Before he gets back and finds out for himself. Neither of them deserves that. You have to fix this.”

“Death, please. Death. Hold the asparagus” 

Quynh’s still laughing when they hang up.

*

Nicky is not at all bothered about the latest gift from his secret admirer. Not. At. All.

Okay, he’s a little bothered.

His line of sight keeps drifting to the empty vase; when he’s pulling down the latest Harlequin novel for Mrs. Potter when he’s totting up the literature student’s dizzying pile of poetry, or during storytime so the hesitancy in Charlie Bone’s voice is completely genuine.

_ What does it mean? What does it mean? _

Nicky has always been a curious soul. It’s why he opened a bookshop; to both indulge himself and to welcome other curious souls. Eventually, he gets a lull of quiet at about 4.30 pm, after the school rush and half an hour before closing. He pulls the yellow sticky note neatly scrawled over in bright orange sharpie Nile has left on the monitor with the list of flower meanings for him:

_ Bluebells - gratitude, constancy, and everlasting love _

_ Monkshood – chivalry against danger _

_ Moonflowers – moon, growth?? _

_ Basil – love, and fidelity  _ (Nicky huffs a laugh; she’s drawn a little Italian flag next to it)

_ Asparagus -? _

And then digs out his phone. Clearly whoever it is, knows him well given the sweet accuracy of their other presents. Nicky felt kind of terrible about accepting the gifts, especially when he had no way of passing on his own thanks, but it would be even ruder to throw them out. Now though, he’s not sure.

His thumb hovers over the messaging app, thoughts returning to Joe. He wished Joe would return, but he’s not due back for at least three days. He hasn’t told Joe about the secret admirer because he doesn’t want Joe to think he’s interested, beyond the sheer novelty. But maybe he could tell him, actually? Joe probably knew about flower language; he’d done that mural for that florist once. He’d be able to help solve the mystery of the asparagus. They could have a good talk and Joe would make him laugh; produce increasingly silly theories before revealing the actual meaning and helping solve the problem before him.

Yes. He’ll ask Joe.

*

Joe’s going to murder Booker, one of these days.

He’d been left an incomprehensible babble of a voicemail, which had the small mercy of assuring Joe that while Booker had apparently ‘massively fucked up’, he had not been drinking. So that was something. But when he’d tried to call Booker back, to learn precisely how Booker had quote ‘massively fucked up’ and precisely what he was going to have to beg Nicky’s forgiveness for – the French bastard’s own phone kept going to voicemail.

Traitor.

Andy had claimed she was simply not getting involved, Quynh had been nothing but supportive but had hung up to go and murder Booker for him before Joe could actually ask what Booker was getting murdered for.

Which left Nile, who as far as he knows doesn’t know it is Joe whose been sending Nicky flowers every Monday, but she’s a smart girl who will no doubt have already worked it out. She also, sweetly, had texted to let Joe know that she’d finished her shift at the bookshop and Nicky was all his.

If only.

He’s all Nicky’s though.

He remembers the day he’d wandered into the bookshop, which had seemed to spring, like an Aladdin’s Cave out of the brickwork, presenting itself to worthy souls. His breath had caught in his throat – he’s a romantic soul and the beauty of a hidden treasure of a bookshop, with its stained glass roses curling under the actual ivy trailing along the length of the storefront sign, trollies of books and terracotta pots framing the door – had been too much to resist.

It had felt like a secret, like a little gift of the universe that he was being let into. A diamond in the rough all of its own. Like its owner.

Nicky was kind and considerate and had a gentle richness of character to him. Luminescent as the moon. But he did not suffer fools gladly and had a cutting tongue when self-righteous popinjays or slimy weasels had somehow intruded on the literary paradise he guarded. Is it a wonder Joe has lost his heart?

When he’s nervous – like now – Joe gets extra poetic.

Because he’d been working up to confessing his love. And before that, he’d been hoping to ask Nicky for a coffee. Well, he had once but then Nicky had just gone to his coffee maker and made Joe one, taking him literally.

So maybe not coffee. Dinner.

He hadn’t even meant to send the flowers, in the beginning. But Nicky had been having such a shit day, he’d wanted to remind him of the light that lived inside him. Hence the bluebells. Then the monkshood when he’d told some particular git off for pushing in front of little Mae who came in every storytime because the asshole had been interested in a particularly valuable medical textbook that Nicky had refused point-blank to sell him. Then with the poetry had come the moonflowers, for Joe’s moon. And the basil for his noble Italian cook. And now the asparagus fern to express his fascination.

That had been the plan, at any rate,  _ Booker. _

God only knows precisely what has been sent to Nicky instead of the innocent fern but Joe’ll fix it and fix it fast. Twisting one of his rings around his finger to banish the strange bout of nerves flooding his system, Joe bites his lip, squares his shoulders, and throws himself through the shop doorway.

Nicky is dropping lollipops into the jar he keeps by the till, one by one. Over the tinkling of the bell that heralded Joe’s arrival indoors he can just hear Nicky saying ‘He loves me, he loves me not” with each new lollipop to entertain himself.

_ He knows, he must know. _

Had Booker confessed all? What had Booker  _ sent  _ Nicky anyway rather than the agreed-upon plant?! Joe scans the shop but the only vase he can see has an array of novelty quills blooming out of it.

“Joe? Nicky looks up, a devastating smile spreading across his face, a lollipop still clutched in his fingers, “Joe?”

“Hello, Nicolò”

_ Is that the  _ **_ best _ ** _ he can do?! _

Before he can berate himself any further, Nicky is sliding out from behind the counter and striding over to him, arms outstretched. The minute Joe enfolds Nicky in his arms, tucking his nose into Nicky’s neck, he relaxes, rubbing Nicky’s back as he feels the other man’s own tension there.

“I did not expect to see you back just yet” Nicky murmurs, sounding pleased. At least, Joe thinks he sounds pleased.

“I managed to catch an earlier train” Joe explains as they pull away from each and Joe sees that wonderful smile again as those impossible, gorgeous, seafoam eyes search his face.

“Good,” Nicky nods his head, “We get you all to ourselves and you can have a much-deserved rest. Have you eaten?”

Joe can’t help it, he feels his own smile grow,  _ darling,  _ “A small portion of risotto nicely provided by first-class” he mentions, careful to keep his tone innocent.

Sure enough, a frown carves itself between Nicky’s eyebrows, that kissable Cupid’s bow pulling up into an upset moue.

“Reheated mush” Nicky tsks, then his expression clears, beautifully open and Joe’s maybe projecting but hopeful too? “Are you still hungry?”

“Famished” Joe nods, thrilling at the fact that he will have Nicky all to himself for the evening. Nicky’s smile gentles and then he seems to startle as if remembering something, “I’ just about to lock up, but I had something I wanted to ask you about.”

He lets go of Joe and slips over to retrieve a sticky note, leaning over the counter in a way that showcases that perfect ass and the stretch of those shoulders under his simple black t-shirt. “I –ah, no, no, come  _ here _ ” he reprimands the reluctant piece of paper because he has the body of a Roman God and the sweetest soul tucked inside. Nicky retrieves it and turns back and Joe has to drop his gaze to his shoes so that he doesn’t see Nicky looking back over his shoulder while Joe stares at his ass.

_ His waist is a sapling…his face a moon _

“I’ve been receiving anonymous gifts every Monday. And Nile had the brilliant idea that the flowers – because some of them have been flowers – might have a symbolic meaning? Like that Victorian language and well, we were able to find all of the meanings except one and I was hoping you would help me. Because I – “Nicky’s ears have gone charmingly pink, Joe realises with a start when the Italian turns round again, “I don’t know what they’re trying to  _ say  _ and I know you did that mural and I was thinking you might know? Please?”

Of course, Joe knows. Because Joe’s the one saying it.

But Nicky doesn’t.

Joe exhales and manages a bright smile. He doesn’t know, which means Booker can’t have fucked up that badly, which means Joe can smooth this out, somehow, then work on how to ask Nicky out properly. Work up the courage and just tell him that he is the most beautiful man in all creation and Joe would very much like to kiss him, please. Especially when he’s cross about something because It’s Not Right and cook dinner and hold hands and argue and fuck each other silly and taste each and every groan and learn each and every inch of Nicky as he brings him to pleasure again and again–

“Joe?”

“Hm?” Joe blinked, coming back to reality and sadly not the happily satisfied one.

Nicky watches him with an unreadable expression, eyes gleaming in the shop’s warm lamplight.

“May I read you the list?” Nicky asks demurely from under his eyelashes and Joe is reading far too much into that tone, his imagination gets far too good a workout.

“Of course.”

“Well, first there were bluebells which have several nice meanings to do with love and admiration. Which could be platonic rather than romantic but – anyway - then there was monkshood which I’m not quite sure where chivalry fits in and then moonflowers which has something to do with growth, we thought?”

Nicky never does see himself quite clearly.

“And basil, so they obviously know me and that was rather sweet. But then there was today’s delivery”

_ Fuck. _

“Oh yes?” Joe asks all nonchalance.

Andy is probably laughing at him. Extremely hard.

“Uh,” Nicky’s arm comes up, hand scrubbing at the back of his neck. “It was asparagus? Which,” Nicky’s cheeks have gone all rosy, to match his ears, “Well, Nile and I realised it had some sexual connotations but maybe we missed something – “

“Asparagus? No- “Joe says slowly, “It means fascination. The fern”

Nicky glances at the sticky note, worrying that lower lip. “Does it?” Then, “No. No, Joe, it wasn’t a fern. It was asparagus, as in the vegetable”

He retrieves his phone from his pocket, pulling up something on the screen and twisting it to show Joe, and yup, that is definitely asparagus in that vase, holy fuck.

Joe’s _ definitely  _ going to kill Booker one of these days.

“I – he-  _ that traitor! _ What do I have to do, paint him a fresco?! I said – I said asparagus  _ fern _ , oh God  _ damn” _

Joe rakes his fingers through his curls, mind whirling. He turns around, pacing on the spot, and nearly dies when Nicky suddenly appears in front of him, a solid wall gripping him gently by the arms. When Joe refocuses on Nicky he’s looking a little wild-eyed himself.

“Joe, Joe, you’re the one who’s been sending me things?” Nicky’s lips quirk up into one of those tiny smiles and he almost looks…hopeful, Joe thinks. It makes Joe’s throat dry.

“Yes” he croaks

“The chess set?”  _ Their _ chess set, the one Nicky always keeps under the counter, games stretching over days, carried on whenever Joe has a spare hour, or after a book signing.

“Yes,” Joe jumps at the feel of something grazing along the side of his forefinger and looks down to see Nicky’s hand reaching for his. The smile threatening across his face pops into bloom and he laces their fingers together, all calluses and ink stains together. When he looks back up, smiling broadly, Nicky looks a tad dazed. But then he swallows, a smile of his own returning. A thumb rubs softly against the back of Joe’s hand.

“And the flowers?”

“Yes, well – not the asparagus – honestly, I would  _ never _ ” Joe cringes but Nicky’s smile only grows He nods “Yes, no I know – but you’re my admirer?”

“Of course,” Joe says, thankfully cutting off before he can say ‘I’m mad with love for you, and I was working up to telling you without telling you like that’. “I love you”

Well. There went that plan. At least he didn’t say he was mad for him, that’s something

“I just have one more question,” Nicky says, face growing serious though his eyes gleam.

“Anything”

Nicky’s so close now. When did he get so close?

“May I kiss you?”

Nicky’s mouth is soft and dry. And so perfect. One kiss lends itself to two and three. Then four. Joe’s working up to five, breathless and lax. When Nicky pulls back, well he does but then he smiles and drops kiss 4.5 (it was only a peck) to Joe’s lips.

“But I didn’t know it was you! I couldn’t say thank you – thank you, by the way,” Nicky’s thumb slips from where it had been cradling Joe’s cheek to swipe a thumb over Joe’s damp lower lip, “Thank you, tesoro. You incurable romantic. I couldn’t, I would have – I  _ wanted _ so much for it to be you.”

Oh god, of course, Nicky would be bothered about reciprocation. Case in point, “May I take you to dinner?”

Joe’s smile softens, “Nico, habibi, you don’t have to”

Nicky’s got that determined shine in his eyes again. He squeezes Joe’s hands gently “I want to. And I want you. Joe, tesoro mio. I love you, too”

Affection and satisfaction and just pure adoration rush through Joe so fast he thinks his knees might buckle. He has to kiss Nicky again.

They part with a breathless laugh and there’s a little spark of mischief in those eyes now.

“What?”

“Well, I just wondering whether to cook asparagus with dinner or -?” Nicky lets the question taper off and he is such a  _ little shit _ . Who gave him the right to be so adorable, who?! Joe would like to talk – his heart is too full as it is, with all these little glimmers of Nicky, seeing him unbridled and fully teasing with the possibility of more is too much.

“I could go off you” Joe threatens idly, even as he gently pushes Nicky to sit in one of the big armchairs, the one turned away from the window and prying eyes and straddles his lap. The open joy in Nicky’s eyes turns heated as his hands slip to Joe’s hips, to keep him seated.

“No you won’t” Nicky affirms, with a cheeky confidence Joe savours.

“Never” he promises, ducking in for a kiss, humming when Nicky meets him halfway.

“Never ever” Nicky whispers back before kissing him again.

_ He loves me…he loves me lots. _

**Author's Note:**

> Title and the line 'His waist is a sapling…his face a moon' from Abu Nuwas poem of the same title
> 
> Basil is particularly popular in Italy as far as the internet tells me, hence the lil Italian flag Nile drew
> 
> I hope you liked it! If you've got the spoons, I always love hearing from you, either here or on tumblr @ meet-the-girl-who-can


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